Inna Dulchevsky – Five Poems


For Him and His Heaven
for W. B. Y. and D. d. l. R.

O mystic partner! I’ve been waiting for you
And your shoulder to lead me to transform
As if a cocoon that transforms its own dry
Covering into the silky wings
I am plaiting with the sounds and syllables
I’m fantasizing

The auburn and the pink and all the pastel hues
Of butterfly’s leisure and flowers
I’ve been crowned with his heaven
His words that spread before my bare feet
Before my nakedness that I’ve exposed to you
I’m standing

I’m praying to keep my balance
Escape time-razor cutting instants into its lesser pieces
When segmenting the heavy air that I’m gasping
Into my vertigo’s reverberating resonance
Outstripping the hues’ collection of my bones
I’m moving though

Wrapped in a translucent tunic of the consonants
Blending and fragmenting the lines with line endings
Then adding drop by drop the vowels as if an alchemist
While searching for the gold’s companion
Scrutinizing after the gist within a shapeless blob
We’re waltzing

River of No Return

Auburn butterfly’s wing
Gently slides glossy surface 
Overflowing Dark River
Washes the pollen off
Where I sit and wait for you

Soft pink petal orchid
Like floating petals of my soul 
Absorbed by a river’s stream
Meander away 
Where I sit and wait for you

Moisturized line of your lips
Mirage of my desire
Phantasm’s segment    
Drawn by the pull of horizon
Where I sit and wait for you

River mouth opens
Harbor of clay and slit
Swallows sunrays
Grooves deeply into a triangle
Where I sit and wait for you

In a sudden waterfall
That softens the rocks
Estuary gulps brackish water
Whispers about a riverbed’s comfort
Where I sit and wait for you

My Universe

Here I am
Dip my fingers
Into Universe
Reach out for a
Wave of memory
             Walk my eyes
             Far into the ocean
Voyage over its moods
Breakers’ temper and cream
Like scattered flocks of
Alarmed white pigeons
Weightless feathers
Sparrow splashes its head
Rejoices park’s puddle
That never dries
Because of running
Summer fountain
Overseen by some
Unknown to others
I search with my eyes
For my face reflection
              Through the droplets’ net of
              Marigolds faces that fell on my skin
              Blinded by joyous rapture
              I kiss ethereal dahlias
I bow to iris tiaras
Wave of blue
Cerulean skies
A thin line of a
Light teal clouds
As if disguised
              I am gazing
              Within a tiny indigo dot

yoga nidra

flageolet on voices
whispered   whistled   
your best friend’s face
breeze against
            your cheek
warm touch of
mother’s eyes
her dress
children on
distant sounds
  hands in sand
stained with grass
slim ankles     
 warm-red florets 
         on the sandals
path in garden
wheat and weeds
ladybug on daisy 
flower crown
tangled hair
cobalt air
plum sunset



To reflect at the mirrors when no one looks into its gloss,
hauling the wavelets across the cold corridor’s
echoes. I’ve traveled far into emptiness. He who
stretches his hand for the lonely tree is here.

A bird stands near the center of the sleeping lagoon,
drowns like the rain indigo cloud. Stillness arrives
after I waltz with the tree leaves and air. There were
no breezes to bring your hand, to place it between my

transparent skin with veins. Polished Lassiter Swamp is
my mirror at the earthly dimension. I look and look for
beginnings and stars in it. Ouroboros blue rings circle
around Jupiter. I wonder if the Moon believes in destiny?


I’m in the train of thoughts. Raindrops are veiled
under murky halos. Oh! I missed your soul’s love
letters…How strange you don’t believe in soul!
I am so naïve you know it. I am deprived. Numbed.

My wings are pulled into unknown vortex. I fly
and see my faith next to myself in the air of thoughts.
I am a hoop; the purple snake coils me. It hiss
the song of time – my patience and silence. Here is

the last stop, where beauty is seeing myself standing
free in the rain, feeling like its drops are melting my
scapular, stir my body in the gray. Waiting again,
being trapped into a silent madness, no answer.


No! Madness is never mute; deafening. It howls
as if torn ashen paint’s sheets on the walls;
its execution staring through me with the
cobwebs of frost. The flawless beauty is chilling.  

Rainy days are filled with the keen scent of a
compelling gloom, filling the winter with
the echo of liveliness. To wine! Old papyrus is
dredged and rusted, scented with Isabella and

mold, out of the coffer; almost a half a century
lasted tobacco and cigarette tubes. It burns
as if it’s a gamble, passing the crossing where
recollections have no emotions or reason.


Author’s Statement on Beauty

In meditation, traveling far away from the mind’s deep blue landscape, moving along the clouds of thoughts, avoiding to be swept by the colorful wings of old and new ideas, suddenly I see a pair of eyes looking at me. As I accept the fact that someone is observing me, I begin to recognize something greater than merely a close resemblance between the pair of unknown eyes with my own eyes. I soon discover they are my own eyes. When the feeling of wonder is greater than fear, it comforts me, and allows me to surrender to the view. I watch.

At first, I believe what I see is the reflection of my own eyes. Slowly, I start to realize that there should be no reflections: there are no mirrors in meditation that could possibly enable me to see the reflection of my own eyes. In that moment, I know I see myself not through the reflection of myself, but with the eyes of my own self.

Once Kahlil Gibran said, “Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.” This is an instant, a unity of my mind and my heart, when only the power of beauty is able to merge the two into one. Only beauty is able to open my own heart and make me see my own self without the mirror.  


Inna Dulchevsky spent her early school years in Belarus. She was awarded First Prize in the 2014 David B. Silver Poetry Competition. Inna’s work has been published in numerous anthologies and journals including Storm Cycle: Best Poetry of 2015, LUMMOX, Poetry Pacific, First Literary Review – East, KNOT Magazine, and The Cannon’s Mouth. In MeArteka Literary Magazine Inna’s work appeared in both English and Albanian translation. Her interests include philosophy, psychology, classical music, meditation and yoga. The light and expansion of consciousness through the connection with inner-self and nature are essential in the writing of her poetry.